


A Whole Lottie Trouble

by ninathepink



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, World Building and filling out the gaps because I can
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:02:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninathepink/pseuds/ninathepink
Summary: All Lottie Lamar wanted was to open up a restaurant of her own. She didn't know that doing so would involve magical beings, monsters, legal trouble, gray morality, a possible apocalypse, and stumbling through centuries-old biases.Or, you know, conjuring giant cleavers out of thin air.She really should have read the fine print.





	1. In Which Plotting Ensues

**Author's Note:**

> This will be canon divergent in places, but little bits will be sacrificed to make a more engaging and cohesive story.

It was the third sign she’d found within the week. Olivia’s frown grew as she looked over the now-familiar notice plastered against the brick. It depicted a crowd of people with fists raised against a sinister-looking Food Soul in the background. The bold black letters above it read:

**FIGHT THE FOOD SOUL MENACE!**

_Those without contracts walk the streets, threatening humans as much as Fallen Angels! Could your job be next? Your family? Do your civic duty! Report Food Souls without Master Attendants, and send them back where they belong!_

“Tch,” Olivia grunted.

She pulled the sign down when no one was watching, crumpling it in her hand. How could people be so naïve? Fallen Angels grew bolder and more powerful with each passing day, and yet the populace seemed more worried about rogue Food Souls – the very weapons crafted to defeat them. So what if a few were walking around without masters?

The sentiment wasn’t a new one. There’d been pushback and hysteria since Food Souls were first introduced – so much so that parts of the world had banned even spreading information about them. Mob mentality had cost many Food Souls and Master Attendants their lives.

It always had a price.

Whatever satisfaction Olivia had gotten from pulling the poster down was swiftly crushed. There were several more plastered down the street, along with a few new ones from different groups.

“Oh my. More already?” A voice asked sadly behind her.

Tiramisu had returned, carrying a bag and glancing nervously at the posters. Olivia shook her head, gesturing her to walk with her down the alley. She’d rather keep the conversation private.

“There’s always been fools who believe that. You shouldn’t worry.”

“It seems like it’s gotten worse lately.” Tiramisu matched her stride, slipping behind her when the alley grew more narrow. “There was someone handing out leaflets in the marketplace, too. It seems the king has promised to do something about it.”

“Good. Maybe it will quiet people down for—”

One glance at Tiramisu’s face had the rest of her sentence dissolving. Olivia blinked. “…you can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Tiramisu said softly. She pulled a flyer from her bag, handing it to her. “The guards are going to start acting on complaints. Launching investigations. Food Souls found without an active contract are going to be imprisoned.”

Olivia swore under her breath, reading it over. “They’re going to _imprison_ our best defense against Fallen Angels? Do these people know nothing about what we’re up against?”

Tiramisu smiled weakly, but Olivia could see how heavily the news weighed on her. “It seems that the king and his nobles think the Chef’s Guild is exaggerating the threat in a bid for power. He can’t be the only one thinking so, either. Once one ruler acts, the others will follow.”

Olivia felt her heart sink. Tiramisu was right – soon enough, unlucky Food Souls would be rounded up and thrown into prisons around the globe. Or worse.

“And the Chef’s Guild doesn’t have enough Master Attendants to cover them,” she murmured, running a hand down her face, “Not enough chefs are joining up. It’s so bad we’re accepting novices who have no idea what they’re getting themselves into.”

Tiramisu came up beside her, patting her shoulder. “It can’t be helped. They’re stretched thin already…”

“…and more of us are falling by the day,” Olivia finished with a heavy sigh. “Between Fallen Angels and the public turning against us, we’re going to be overrun if this keeps up.”

A heavy silence followed. Things were taking a turn for the worst, and Olivia was struggling to see a silver lining. Clearly her Food Soul was, too. Tiramisu’s gaze was locked on the ground, looking terribly melancholy. It hurt to see her like that. Olivia spoke up, trying to sound positive.

“Hey, chin up. We’re not out of the game just yet. The Chef’s Guild probably has something up their sleeve.”

Tiramisu opened her mouth, looking anxious, but hesitated before anything came out.

“Hey, come on,” Olivia urged, “Something’s worrying you. It’s alright.”

“…I’m worried about the coffee shop.”

Olivia froze up. She glanced up and down the alley to make sure they were alone. “…why? Did someone mention them?”

Tiramisu shook her head. “Not anything specific. But…” Another pause. “…they’ve been…taking missions. Crepe saw them organizing requests and payments the last time she visited. I confronted Milk and she admitted it.”

“They’ve been taking _missions_?” Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a headache coming on. “Those rumors that have been spreading, about putting requests and payment into special mailboxes…”

Both the Guard AND the Chef’s Guild were getting complaints about those – especially since many of them had been turned down by the Chef’s Guild and the Guard in the first place. Many of them weren’t legal. Some of them even sounded like they were on shaky moral ground.

“It was Coffee’s idea,” Tiramisu said.

“Of _course_ it was Coffee’s idea.” Olivia put a hand on her hip, pinching the bridge of her nose. She didn’t have to feign the same composed nature when it was just them two. Tiramisu had long been able to see through it. “…that man…we set him up in a shop, give him a cover, we tell him to keep a low profile, to be _careful,_ and he pulls this.”

“They’ve been being careful, I’m sure…”

“Obviously not enough, because half the damn kingdom knows how to hire them!” Olivia exclaimed, waving an arm. “The Guard and the Chef’s Guild are already investigating, and the second it comes out that rogue Food Souls have been operating a café as a cover for _illegal mercenary work_ \--!”

That would be it. It would be like a match thrown into a fireworks factory. The public outcry would be way too much for the Chef’s Guild to handle, and the king might well execute all the Food Souls just to settle down the masses. The chefs could get kicked out of Gloriville entirely – if not hung alongside their Food Souls.

Olivia regretting saying any of it aloud, though, as soon as she looked at Tiramisu. The Food Soul had wrapped her arms around herself, avoiding eye contact, looking positively sick with worry. Olivia tried to force herself calm again.

She reached out to take Tiramisu’s hands, giving them a squeeze. Tiramisu sucked in a shaky breath. She seemed more upset than Olivia had seen her in years.

“I can’t watch them be hurt. I can’t. They’re…they’re just trying to help, to make people happy…”

“I know. They’re not trying to be malicious.”

“B-But it won’t matter to the Chef’s Guild, will it? It won’t matter to the Guard, or everyone else…”

 A tear slipped down her cheek. Olivia reached up to brush it away, holding her face gingerly. She felt soft and warm. It never ceased to amaze her how human she looked and felt. Magic in physical form. To Olivia, she might as well have been a human, for all that she couldn’t advertise the fact publicly.

Tiramisu sniffled, opening her eyes. “…I-I can’t bear to watch them be hurt…”

“I know, I know. They’re basically your family, right?”

“They don’t have a contract. If they’re caught—”

“They won’t be.” Olivia pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her tightly. They both needed it. When she drew back, she poured every ounce of confidence and charisma she had into a smile. “I already know how to fix this. Coffee and the others are going to be just fine.”

“But…”

Olivia cut her off with a slow, soft kiss. Tiramisu was left wide-eyed and blushing. Olivia had planned on such a reaction – after all, she had taken advantage of such a distraction before. It was a good ace up her sleeve when Tiramisu’s sorrow overtook her.

When Tiramisu managed to form sounds again, she let out a squeak, quickly looking up and down the alley. “O-Oliv—Master Attendant, you shouldn’t – not in public, what if a _human_ \--?”

“You trust me, right?”

Tiramisu paused, looking into her eyes. She melted more into her arms. “Of course I do. With everything.”

“Then trust me with this,” Olivia said, lifting her hand to her lips for another kiss before letting her go. “Coffee, Milk, Black Tea, Chocolate…we’re going to make sure they’re fine.”

“How?”

Olivia grinned at her, turning to keep walking down the alley. “We’re going to go give some aspiring chef their lucky break.”


	2. In Which Lottie Is Offered a Cafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Gloriville's idea of being a chef is a lot more complicated.

Lottie Lamar was not someone who stood out in a crowd. She wasn’t all that tall, but she wasn’t all that short, either. She didn’t have flowing golden tresses – her hair was a modest blonde, and cut just above her shoulder. Her eyes were blue. Not cerulean, or sapphire, or crystalline. Just blue, and a common shade of it. Her lips looked like lips, not dew-kissed roses or spring strawberries. She was plump, pleasant-looking, and wholly unremarkable.

On the outside.

On the inside, she was burning with resolve, curiosity, and no small amount of anxiety-induced indigestion.

Up until two weeks ago, she’d served as the pastry chef in her family’s restaurant in a little seaside town. Lottie had grown up in that restaurant, just like her two sisters, and had held a rolling pin almost before she’d started to talk. As she’d grown, Lottie had become more and more skilled at baking, and her family had given her more and more responsibilities. It had earned the already famous restaurant more fame and increased fortune.

It had earned Lottie less sleep and more stress.

Still, she hadn’t complained. It was for the good of the business, and the business was everything, as her parents had chanted. Lottie was proud of her work, and of the happy customers, even if she never got to hear any of it personally. But eventually, the gigantic workload and lack of days off caught up with Lottie. She had wanted a vacation.

Her mother had laughed. Her father had flown into a rage. Her sisters had told her how lazy she was, how they hadn’t taken a vacation in much longer, and besides, she had no nice clothes to wear, and she was so ridiculously meek she’d probably just spend the whole time in some inn eating desserts, gain fifteen pounds, and come home crying.

So, miserably, Lottie had kept working.

She’d worked for years, working and working until finally, she felt like her bones had been entirely replaced by stress and frustration. Lottie had said that she needed a vacation, and a raise, and to be treated more respectfully.

Her mother had laughed. Her father had flown into a rage. Her sisters had told her how lazy she was, how they hadn’t gotten a vacation or a raise in much longer, and besides, she didn’t really _deserve_ any of that because she was quite a selfish person and it was lucky they let her work there at all, her pastries really weren’t that good so why should they—

So Lottie quit.

Looking back, Lottie wasn’t sure they really believed her, even as they watched her pack her bags, withdraw all the gold she’d saved up, and march out the door. They certainly had thought it funny when she said she was going to open her own café.

They probably had found it much _less_ funny when they had discovered she’d taken all her recipes with her.

Lottie, on the other hand, thought it was very funny indeed.

However, the satisfaction at thumbing her nose at her family started to rub off after she’d boarded the boat to Gloriville, and by the time she’d arrived in the bustling foreign kingdom, she was no less determined, but a great deal more nervous.

She only knew how to make pastries. She didn’t even know what the kingdom had available, or how expensive things were. She certainly didn’t know how to go about getting a permit.

Lottie sighed heavily, dropping her trunk to sit on top of it and consider things. She hadn’t really gotten much considering done before a smiling sideways face slipped into her view.

“Well, hello there. New arrival, huh?”

Lottie startled, very nearly toppling off her trunk. She stood up quickly. “Oh! Yes! Hello there, sorry, am I in the way of unloading…?”

The woman the smiling face belonged to proved taller than her, and had leaned over just to get her attention. She was wearing a rather fantastical set of armor, and had long pink hair. She put a hand on her hip.

“No, you’re not in the way of anybody. I just noticed you were sitting there alone with your luggage and thought you might need some directions.”

Lottie smiled sheepishly. “It’s that obvious, huh? Well, er. Yes, I could really use some directions to—”

The woman interrupted. “Well, first off, you’re a chef, right?”

Lottie was left blinking. How could she have known that? A glance down at herself made her remember she’d draped her chef’s jacket over her shoulders. “Well…yes.”

Her answer had the woman smiling. Lottie noticed there was something almost gleaming about her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was charming or menacing. Could a smile be both?

“Perfect. You must be looking to join the Chef’s Guild.”

“The what now?” Lottie asked.

“The Chef’s Guild. An exclusive organization that helps train and supply budding chefs in their culinary adventures,” the woman said, reciting it almost as if she’d said the same thing dozens of times. “I just happen to be a member of the Guild, and more importantly, we needed a new recruit.”

“You…did? You do?” Well, that was fortuitous, even if Lottie was struggling to keep up with what she was saying. “So the Chef’s Guild is the one who issues permits for culinary businesses?”

“Among more important things, yes.” The woman reached down to pick up her trunk, pulling it along behind her. “Let’s walk.”

Lottie didn’t have a lot of choice not to, seeing as a stranger was leaving with all her possessions. She gave a little yelp, stumbling after her fast-paced stride. “Um, excuse me, ma’am, you don’t have to carry that, really I can—”

“So, where are you from?” The woman interrupted, with all the casual air of someone who didn’t realize they were interrupting.

“Porthaven,” Lottie said, apologizing to a few people she bumped into while trying to catch up. “It’s to the south, along the coast. It’s small, but lots of sailors stop there to resupply on their way to Gloriville.”

“Porthaven,” the woman repeated, glancing back at her. “I’ve heard of it before, I think. Do you get many Fallen Angels down there?”

“Uh, no, not particularly…they’re more active further inland.”

“You’re lucky. The ones around here are _very_ active. So much so that it’s affecting supply lines. The market prices for certain ingredients are through the roof because of it.”

That didn’t sound good. “Um, what kind of ingredients, if I might ask?”

“It depends on the day, really. Yesterday I needed a block of cheese and the cheapest I could find was two hundred gold.”

Lottie swear she felt her heart crack. “…t-two hundred gold for _cheese_?” She paused. “…do you know how much the going rate is for flour and sugar right now?”

The look the woman gave her made her wince in preparation. “Flour will run you anywhere from a hundred gold to two hundred most days. Sugar, though, _that’s_ an expensive one. Especially the fancy kinds, like pearl or finely granulated. Yesterday, some was…hmm, five hundred, I think?”

Another crack. Lottie almost felt faint. It was going to cost her a thousand gold just to make sugar cookies _._

“How in the world can anyone afford to eat here?!” she squealed.

That seemed to make the woman chuckle. “Don’t worry. Most chefs around here go out and get their own ingredients, or source them through the Chef’s Guild. Because ingredients are so expensive, very few regular people cook their own food. They almost exclusively eat out, and since the Chefs get deals on the ingredients or gather them themselves, they can price them inexpensively and competitively.”

It was such a culture shock Lottie felt like she’d had cold water dumped on her head. “…o-oh…I see…haha…”

Lottie did not see. She was especially baffled by what ‘gather their own ingredients’ meant. Did they grind their own flour from their own wheat, make cheese from the milk of their own cows? How else would they do it?

The woman in front of her laughed. Apparently, the face she was making was a funny one. “I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? I’m Olivia. And you are?”

“Lottie. Nice to meet you, Olivia.”

Olivia flashed that mysterious smile of hers again. “Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine. You’ve arrived just in time, you know. You’re really very lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Devastatingly,” said Olivia, nearly knocking over a barrel with Lottie’s trunk. Lottie flinched, hurrying to take the other side and prevent any more accidents. Olivia continued unperturbed. “Did you know it usually takes weeks, maybe months, to get a new chef set up? There’s all the paper work, then the permits, the licensing, summoning appointments, the queue for space, bidding wars, etc, etc.”

“Er, no, I-I didn’t,” Lottie said weakly. She was finding she didn’t know a great deal.

“Well, it does. _But_.”

Olivia turned a corner and Lottie went with her, hanging onto that ‘but’ like her livelihood depended on it, because honestly it was starting to sound like it did.

“It just so happens that there’s a café I know of that just recently went out of business. The staff are well trained and just need someone to take over the helm. Really, you’ll be doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to see anyone lose their jobs and end up on the street, you know?”

“A café? Staff?” Lottie parroted, her mind racing just as surely as her feet, “I’m sorry, how many are there? I-I’m not sure I’ll be able to pay them all adequately until we get the place up and running…”

Olivia waved a hand. “That’s the best part – you don’t have to pay them anything. They’re Food Souls. They only need a contract and living space. They don’t even need to _eat,_ though most enjoy it.”

“I don’t-- Food Souls?”

Lottie did realize she was repeating a lot, but there was a lot that warranted repeating. She’d heard vaguely of Food Souls before, but only in name, and usually in conjunction with Fallen Angels. She hadn’t ever heard what they were, or what they did.

“What are Food Souls?”

Olivia paused only long enough to stare at her. It was the sort of stare one might give a person if they thought their brains were egg salad. “…oh. You must be from one of _those_ places. Some parts of the world have been slower to embrace Food Souls. They’re magical beings that are summoned to aid and protect humans, mostly from Fallen Angels.”

“I…wait, I’m sorry, you want to _give_ _me_ a café staffed by magical beings?” Lottie asked in utter bewilderment. “Ones who are trained, and don’t need to be paid? Is that…is that even legal?”

Olivia broke into a fit of laughter. Lottie felt her cheeks redden. Maybe it was a silly question to someone from the Chef’s Guild, who was used to Food Souls, but to her, it was a legitimate one. What Olivia was talking about sounded a lot like indentured servitude.

“Not only is it legal, it’s encouraged. The Guild provides a very necessary service to the citizens, and the chefs are the most important part. You’ll have some additional duties, but it’s worth it, and more than that, it’s good, fulfilling work. You can leave a lasting impression here, and make the world as a whole a better place.”

Lottie wasn’t sure how, or why, but hearing Olivia say it made her really believe it. Olivia herself seemed to believe it, too. Either that, or she was a very good actress.

Lottie felt herself smiling, feeling hopeful for the first time that day. Confused, certainly, but hopeful nonetheless.

Olivia smiled back, before tugging the trunk along down rest of the street, and to the feet of a young woman who seemed to be waiting for them. She was beautiful, like some sort of storybook princess, with flowing brown hair and delicate, lacy clothing. She also had a large, ornate silver staff.

Lottie ended up staring at her for a few seconds as Olivia greeted her. Now that she was looking, maybe it was her imagination, but didn’t that staff look a lot like a…giant spoon?

“Lottie, this is my Food Soul, Tiramisu. Tiramisu, this is Lottie, the new Chef’s Guild recruit. She’s agreed to help us out.”

The woman smiled. Lottie opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Whatever she’d been expecting a Food Soul to look like, it most assuredly was not an elegant human sorceress with a smile like sunshine.

Finally, Lottie babbled, “Haha, yes, v-very nice to meet you…sorry for making you wait?”

“Oh, you didn’t, really,” Tiramisu said gently, “I was just picking up some paperwork for Olivia. Shall we go inside?”

Lottie nodded, feeling dizzy. She looked at what was to be her new café – her own café, somewhere she could make a name for herself. A new job, in a new kingdom, working alongside magical beings to help the world. Lottie smiled. Then…squinted.

There was still a sign hanging from the door, displaying the café’s name.

“…hey…why does that sign say ‘Devil’…?”

She could have sworn Olivia and Tiramisu exchanged a look before they hurried her inside, not answering the question.


	3. In Which There's a Suspicious Amount of Shoving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And pulling. And shooing, for that matter.

A bell jingled as they opened the shop’s doors, entering. It was a smaller shop, brightly lit by the large windows. There were only a few tables, and she saw that most only sat one or two customers. A couple small planters sat near the counter. Behind it, mounted on the wall, was a chalkboard, old, but seemingly in good condition. It looked as though it had recently been wiped off.

The whole shop smelled like freshly roasted coffee. Lottie found it very strange such a fresh scent would linger, seeing as the café had closed and hadn’t served customers in at least a few days.

“Well? What do you think?” Olivia asked, leaning against the counter.

“It’s nice,” Lottie answered, looking around herself with a little smile. “It’s not too big, either. I’ll be able to handle this amount of customers at a time, especially with help. Can I see the kitchen?”

Tiramisu and Olivia looked at each other again. They seemed to communicate something, because the next thing Lottie knew, Tiramisu was smiling at her, taking her by the hand.

“Please, allow me to give you the tour while my Master Attendant sees to setting things up.”

“Oh, yes, that would be great, thank you.”

Lottie wasn’t, however, lead to the kitchen. Instead, she was taken into the back and up a narrow staircase. They came out on the floor over the shop, which she quickly saw was the living area. It was mostly a hall with a bunch of doors.

“The bathroom is there, and there are the bedrooms,” Tiramisu said.

Lottie blinked, following her down the hall. “Wow, so many! These buildings are a lot more spacious than the ones I’m used to.”

It was much bigger than what she’d had in Porthaven. Granted, Gloriville on a whole was far larger than Porthaven.

“You’ll find that many buildings, especially restaurants, built here are equipped with larger living quarters. The builders know that there must be enough room for Food Souls to satisfy the tenant.” Tiramisu smiled, indicating the door at the end of the hall. “You’ll have the master bedroom, of course.”

Lottie brightened. She reached for the door knob –

\-- only to have Tiramisu quickly shut it and step in front, a nervous smile plastered over her face.

“Um,” said Lottie.

Tiramisu’s smile grew even more nervous. Lottie noticed that her spoon-staff had tilted as if to subtly block her from entering, as well. “I-I…forgive me, Master Attendant, but it hasn’t been cleaned yet. The others didn’t realize someone would be arriving _so soon_ , you see…”

“Er…I don’t really mind a little dust, Tiramisu, really…I’m not expecting it to be perfect…” Lottie assured, glancing back at the door. “Did the previous owner leave it in a bad state?”

Tiramisu was looking at her like a deer facing down a hunter’s bow, if the deer was trying to smile its way out of the situation. “No, no, it’s not in a bad state I assure you, it’s just…not…ready yet. For you. To be in there. Not before he – it needs…what I mean to say is…”

Tiramisu’s stammered explanation was saved by the sound of an argument coming from the stairway. Lottie could pick up on a female voice that was definitely Olivia, as well as a few others. There was a prevalent male voice, as well, a deep one that she didn’t recognize.

Olivia’s voice raised loud enough to clearly make out her next words.

“—I am TRYING to HELP YOU, you stubborn ass, so sign the goddam contract or I’ll put YOU through the grinder and turn you into _shards_!”

Lottie and Tiramisu stared at one another for a few seconds. Tiramisu gave an uneasy laugh.

“Will you please excuse me?”

With that, she flew out of the doorway and towards the stairs, moving so fast it almost looked like she was gliding. Lottie was left alone in the hallway, wondering what in Tierra was going on. After briefly considering the now-unblocked door, she thought better of it and headed after Tiramisu.

She only got as far as the first few steps before she was blocked anew. That time, by Olivia, whose face somehow looked calm despite the fact Lottie had heard her yelling moments ago.

“Er…is something the matter?” Lottie asked.

“Oh, no, nothing’s the matter at all,” Olivia replied easily, “Sorry about that. Tiramisu gave you the tour up here, right?”

“Well, I didn’t really get to see much of—”

“Good, good, you want to see the basement, of course,” Olivia interrupted, all but shooing her down the stairs. “No doubt to make sure the boiler and pipes are all in working order. No one wants to set up shop in a café with old pipes. Down we go, watch your step.”

Lottie wasn’t really able watch her step, or watch anything, because the stairs were dimly lit and Olivia was more or less shoving her down them. She was starting to feel as if she were eggs, and Olivia, an overly determined whisk.

The basement looked, unsurprisingly, like a basement. There was nothing magical or complicated about it – just a somewhat dingy brick room with pipes and a boiler. Lottie looked at Olivia, who waved her towards the pipes with a ‘go on’ motion, before awkwardly leaning over to look at things and pretend she knew what she was seeing.

Yep. They sure were pipes. There wasn’t any residue or dripping, so Lottie quickly reached the conclusion if there _was_ something amiss, it was beyond her narrow expertise.

She glanced back at Olivia.

Olivia had moved back in front of the stairs, glancing up them with an expression caught between a concerned frown and frustrated scowl. However, the moment she saw Lottie was watching, she switched to a rather confident smile.

“Um,” said Lottie.

“Well? What do you think?”

“…they’re…fine, I guess? I don’t really know plumbing that well.”

“It’s as good a time as any to acquaint yourself with it,” Olivia said. “We’ve got time.”

“Acquaint myself?”

“Intimately,” Olivia insisted, glancing back up the stairs the moment she didn’t think Lottie was watching.

Lottie pretended to look at things another five minutes, using the time to try and gather her courage. Something clearly suspicious was going on. They kept rushing her around, not giving her time to look at anything. She understood if the Chef’s Guild wanted to get the café open again soon, but it clearly wasn’t going to open _that evening_ , so why the rush?

Something was amiss. Lottie sort of wished she could sneak around Olivia, grab her trunk, and escape. However, she didn’t have that luxury. No matter how fishy things were, the fact was it was still a café, with trained staff that didn’t need to be paid, and it sounded as though it were all free. In a kingdom with such ridiculously priced ingredients, Lottie had no idea when she’d be able to afford another café – let alone staff, or Food Souls, however one went about getting those.

And if she really was doing the Chef’s Guild a favor by taking over the place, then it would give her instant good standing, and maybe make it easier to buy ingredients.

It was a good deal. As long as whatever they were trying to keep from her wasn’t going to come down on her head.

Finally, Lottie took a deep breath and turned around to face Olivia, steeling herself. “Listen, not to sound ungrateful or anything, but I’m not really sure—”

“Of course you aren’t,” Olivia announced, far too loudly, and with another glance up the stairs, “I mean, you haven’t even seen the kitchen yet! We’ll go see the kitchen and then introduce you to your new staff.”

Whatever Lottie’s protests were, she lost them as Olivia pulled her up the stairs – at a much slower pace than before, as if trying to buy a little extra time. When she got to the top of the stairs, Tiramisu was already waiting. They exchanged another glance.

Then they looked at Lottie.

Lottie looked from one to the other, before meekly asking, “…may I see the kitchen now?”

Tiramisu offered a smile that seemed forced. “Yes, of course…” She quietly led her down the hall and to a door.

Inside was remarkably bare and worn. There was an old oven that looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. The door creaked and threatened to fall off the moment she opened it. The wooden counters had stains and gouges. Lottie opened a few of the cabinets to find them entirely bare. There was a large walk-in freezer to the side, with a handle that looked as though someone had taken a hammer to it.

No ingredients, no equipment. Whatever the old chef had had, they’d taken it all with them, down to the last bowl.

And, more tellingly, there was a thick layer of dust near the corners and edges of things, which Lottie suspected had been over the entire room until about thirty minutes ago.

“…oh.”

Olivia seemed like she was trying to find something positive to say but was failing. Tiramisu stepped forwards, her tone apologetic. “…I know it doesn’t look like much…”

“It doesn’t look like it’s been used in _ten years_ ,” Lottie blurted, for all that it was true. She gestured to the sorry excuse for an oven. “I really don’t think I can bake anything with that, and the burners look like they might crumble if I tried to put a pot on them. How did anyone prepare food in here?”

“We didn’t,” came a voice from the doorway.

The voice belonged to a pretty woman with long, silky white hair, wearing a soft dress and ribbons in her hair. Small horns poked out of her head. Her eyes were the same cream white as her hair. For a moment, Lottie thought she must be blind, until her gaze focused on her.

A Food Soul.

“Oh Milk,” Tiramisu said, quietly, as if she were trying very hard to subtly convey something. Given that Milk just kept on staring at Lottie, the message probably wasn’t recieved.

“You didn’t?” Lottie repeated, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

The Food Soul stared at her with a half-lidded gaze, her tone lacking inflection. “This is a coffee shop.”

“Oh, yes, I assumed that,” Lottie said slowly, “So you mean you were supplied by a bakery?”

“We serve coffee.”

Lottie’s voice got smaller. “Er…yes, but what did you serve along with it? Pastries?”

“This isn’t a bakery, it’s a coffee shop.”

Lottie wilted further and further. “…any solid food…?”

“We serve coffee,” said Milk.

Helplessly, Lottie looked over at Tiramisu and Olivia, who seemed to be having another of their silent, eyes-only conversations. “Wait, so…they’ve never served food here? _At all?”_

“We’re a _coffee shop_.” Milk was starting to look annoyed. “I don’t like repeating myself. We opened this shop to make coffee popular among humans. If we served other things, they might become more popular than coffee. It would defeat the purpose.”

The way she said it caught Lottie off-guard. She blinked. “But…what about your chef? Sorry, your Master Attendant?”

Milk’s expression didn’t change. “He was murdered.”

Lottie felt the color start to drain from her face. “Oh my god, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. You must be devastated…”

“No,” said Milk simply, “He died a long time ago. We’re better now.”

Lottie had absolutely no idea what to say to that response. “I’m…glad?”

She wasn’t sure if she was or not, but the talk of chefs being murdered certainly was taking the wind out of her sails. It was also dragging up a lot more questions than answers. The timeline was wonky.

“Er, I’m sorry, when _exactly_ did this shop go out of business?”

Milk stared at her. “Three hours ago.”

“So!” Olivia exclaimed, a little too loudly again, with a clap of her hands, “You’ve met Milk, you should probably meet the others. Tiramisu, would you and Milk please go get them? Lottie and I have some paperwork to sign.”

“R-Right, of course!” Tiramisu latched onto one of Milk’s arms wheeling her around towards the door. “We’ll see you soon!”

The mildly surprised look on Milk’s face was the most emotion Lottie had seen on her the entire conversation. As they left, she heard Milk wonder, “Did I say something wrong?”

Then it was Lottie’s turn to be wheeled out by Olivia, led back into the main café space. She pulled a folder from the counter, tapping it. “Right. I’ve got all the necessary permits and licenses, since they were already issued for this café. All we need to do now is--”

For once, Lottie interrupted. “No, wait a minute, wait. Look, this is happening _very_ fast and I’m…I’m not sure about this. Do you have any idea how _strange_ this seems?”

That made Olivia stop, and frown. For a moment, Lottie swore she almost looked guilty. “From an outsider’s perspective, yes, I can imagine it seems very strange.”

She sighed, leaning an elbow against the counter and brushing her other hand through her hair. “Like I said before, these aren’t normal circumstances. It probably seems very rushed to you, but I have my reasons. I’m not trying to ruin you here. The fact is…taking over this place would be a huge help to me…and to the Food Souls, too.”

Lottie fiddled with her lips, glancing back towards the back hall. “Are you really sure about that? I heard you arguing with someone before, and Milk doesn’t seem very…er. Pleased? I don’t want to intrude here. Maybe I’m not a good fit…”

“You’re a great fit. You’re a perfect fit, and you’ll be a great addition to the Guild,” Olivia insisted. Lottie wondered how much of it was due to desperation. “Trust me. Just give it a chance at least. You came here for a reason, didn’t you, Lottie?”

Now that made Lottie hesitate. She _had_ come for a reason.

“Well…yes.”

“What’s the reason? I’m curious.”

Lottie sighed, leaning heavily against the counter beside Olivia. “I wanted to open my own restaurant.”

To prove she could be a success – not only to her family, but to herself.

Olivia turned towards her, looking more sure. She put a hand down on the file. “This is your chance. How many times in your life do you think you’ll get offered a staffed, furnished café for free?”

Lottie sucked in a breath. “…w-well…that’s true. It’s only _partially_ furnished, though. I’m going to have to replace a lot of that kitchen…”

“We’ll cover the costs.” Tiramisu had stolen into the room without their notice, and she glided across the floor to Olivia’s side, looking at Lottie. “All of the repair costs. It’ll be as good as new.”

Lottie stared at her. “ _All_ of them? Are you serious?”

“And a signing bonus,” Tiramisu added a little hastily, in growing concern.

Lottie’s eyes widened. Apparently, Tiramisu mistook her slack-jawed surprise for indecision, because she seemed ready to sweeten the deal further before Olivia placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. When Tiramisu looked over, Olivia offered a smile, and a faint shake of her head. Olivia looked back at Lottie.

“Well? What do you say? Are you going to take the plunge and make your dreams a reality…or are you going to say no, and regret it later?”

As Lottie looked back at her, she felt a slight inkling that she was going to admire and loathe Olivia in equal measure. However, Olivia _was_ right – if she didn’t accept, she was surely going to look back and regret that she never had the courage to try.

“Well, I guess there’s no harm in trying, right?” Lottie asked, with a feeble smile.

Olivia and Tiramisu gave each other a look.

“Well--” Tiramisu began, but Olivia quickly cut her off. “ _Details_ , just details. A few technicalities. I’ll fill you in once we get you set up. Sign here.”


	4. In Which Lottie Has Second Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also third thoughts, and fourth, including about men in basements.

As it turned out, there were remarkably few of her actual signatures needed. Lottie watched as Olivia scrawled what she guessed was her initials on sheet after sheet, going so fast that her hand was almost a blur. The final one she finished with a flourish, then dumped the papers back into the folder and withdrew a thin leather book, slamming it open on the table. It made Lottie jump in her seat.

“Now this part is the important bit, so pay attention.” Olivia tapped at the spine, a serious expression coming over her face. “This is the actual contract, the one between you and your Food Souls. When someone asks about your contracts, this is what they mean. This book right here. Once the paperwork is filed, only the Guild will ever ask about it, but other people will ask about this. The Chef’s Guild, civilians, other Food Souls, the Guard, all of them.”

Lottie wasn’t sure why the Guard would care about it, but she wasn’t about to question it. She leaned closer to peer at it. It contained writing that sounded like something a lawyer might say, but most of it was in a language she’d never seen before. It almost looked alchemic, with symbols and runes lining portions.

“They’ll…want to see this book?”

Olivia smirked a little, but it didn’t necessarily reach her eyes. “This ‘book’ is going to be the single most important thing you own. Contracts like these are crafted by people who know how to use magic. Not all contracts are created equal, though. Some have loopholes, some are unsteady, some are even forgeries. This one is the real deal, made specifically by scholars at the Academy in Nevras. It’s iron-clad. The binding magic is powerful stuff.”

Lottie swallowed a little. She didn’t necessarily like the idea of being bound by anything iron-clad. It was sounding less like running a café and more like a magical jail cell.

Olivia seemed to pick up on her trepidation. She pulled something out of her pack, holding it up. It was a book that looked almost identical. “No need to be worried, all Master Attendants have one. It’s something important, but not something you should be scared about. It’s actually going to be your greatest tool.”

“My greatest tool?” Lottie repeated, not knowing how a magic book could help her run a café.

Olivia nodded. “Think of it as an imaginary thread, linking you and your Food Souls. It connects you, and lets you share in their power. As they grow stronger, you will too, and vice versa.”

“Stronger…at running a restaurant?” Lottie asked slowly, befuddled. “We’re still talking about being a chef, right…?”

Olivia’s mysterious smile made a reappearance. It didn’t do anything good for Lottie’s nerves. “Among other things, yes. You’ll see.”

“ _If_ she agrees,” came a male voice. Lottie looked behind them to find a tall man standing only a few feet from them. He had well-coifed blond hair with streaks of white and brown, and tinted glasses. In addition to a button-up, bow tie, blue scarf, and a brown suitcoat hanging from his shoulders, he was also wearing a frown.

After a moment, Lottie realized that his was the voice she’d heard talking with Olivia earlier.

“Lottie, this is Coffee. Coffee, your new Master Attendant, Lottie.”

“You speak as if things are set in stone,” Coffee said, his voice smooth, for all that Lottie swore there was a darkness to it.

Olivia’s smile was fixed in place, but her eyes seemed to be trying very hard not to narrow.  “They _are_. She already made her decision. She’s signing right now.”

“She hasn’t signed yet. And more importantly, we don’t know yet if she can. The contract might reject her.”

“It won’t.”

“You sound very sure of that.” Coffee’s tone was light, but it didn’t seem like he meant it that way. “Just what kind of spell is hidden in those new contracts, I wonder? It feels different than the one you have. I detected the potency before, and with yours laying out, I can tell the difference easily. This one has stronger magic.”

“It’s just new, Coffee. I’ve had mine for years,” Olivia said sweetly, almost artificially so.

Coffee stepped forwards, his arms crossing in front of him. “I wasn’t aware the magic on contracts was supposed to dim with age. Isn’t it the reverse?”

Lottie was looking back and forth between the two, feeling like she was watching a verbal tennis match and feeling like another game was going in the pit of her stomach. “Er…you _did_ say it would get more powerful…right?”

“Right. He’s just misunderstanding,” Olivia said, not taking her eyes off Coffee. “The scholars of the Academy are always improving their craft and making better and stronger contracts.”

“By ‘better’, you must mean harsher. More severe.”

Olivia’s grin would have been a lot more convincing if she didn’t grit her answer through her teeth. “No, I mean _safer_.”

Coffee didn’t respond right away, staring as hard into Olivia’s eyes as she was into his. Lottie wondered if Olivia had won whatever silent argument they were having, up until he spoke again, his voice so low it might have been a growl.

“Safer for who?”

_“Everyone,”_ Olivia ground out, rising from her seat.

Coffee placed a hand against the table, leaning over slowly, not breaking eye contact with Olivia. “Then why is the Chef’s Guild so desperate for more recruits?”

Something flickered in Olivia’s eyes. She slammed her hands down on the table, making it rattle. From the tension in the air, it looked as if the next step would be to throw the whole damn thing at him.

“Um,” said Lottie.

Both of them looked at her. The force of their combined looks nearly knocked her over. A shrill, nervous laugh slipped out of Lottie’s lips.

“…hahaha…gotta use the restroom _excuse me_ \--”

Lottie shot out of her seat, bolting towards the hall and up the stairs towards the door Tiramisu had showed her. As soon as the door was closed, she sank down to sit on the top of the toilet, running a hand over her face.

What the hell was all _that_ about?

Despite Olivia insisting that taking over the restaurant would be good for everyone, especially the Food Souls, the Food Souls she’d met did not seem enthusiastic about the idea. Coffee seemed like he’d rather boil himself alive than have her sign the contract. That was two for two.

Lottie had so many reservations about things that she could probably book a hotel solid with them. Maybe this had been a mistake. It wasn’t too late to just turn around and go home. She could stay a few days in an inn and enjoy some of the Gloriville cuisine while she was there. She could call the trip a vacation. They’d take her back, right? Despite what her family said, she was a great pastry chef and people loved her stuff, and they knew that. Maybe she could…

Then she remembered her sisters laughing at her, and that comment about her going on holiday, gaining fifteen pounds, and then coming home crying.

They would be right. They’d rub it in her face they were right. She’d have to endure being laughed at, to endure being called selfish and lazy, all the while working herself to exhaustion and spending each night staring up at the ceiling and wondering if she was all the things they said about her.

Suddenly, Lottie didn’t want to go home anymore. She didn’t even want to consider that place home.

But where did that leave her?

She stayed in the bathroom for another ten minutes, but she got no closer to finding an answer. Lottie washed up and splashed some water into her face, emerging from the bathroom feeling tired…

…and almost ran right into someone.

She was tall and serious-faced, with mahogany-colored eyes and long black hair pulled up into a bun. Her dress and hat, colored shades of lavender, silver, and blue, were intricate and beautiful, like something she’d have seen on a doll. Most dolls didn’t have pistols strapped to their thighs, though. Or at least not ones Lottie had seen.

“Sorry,” Lottie apologized, stepping back, “Were you…uh…waiting to use this?”

The woman just looked at her. “Only humans need to use bathrooms.”

“…oooookay then.” That was a very strange thing to think about, and honestly, Lottie didn’t know if she had the space in her head for it. She was already overwhelmed. “You’re one of the Food Souls who lives here, right?”

She offered a sharp nod and an even sharper salute. “I am Black Tea. You’re the new Master Attendant?”

Lottie rubbed her neck. “That seems up for debate right now…but, uh, I’m Lottie. Nice to meet you?”

“I’m not sure,” Black Tea answered, her brow furrowing slightly. “You’d know better than I would.”

Lottie returned her quizzical look with one of her own. “I’m sorry?”

The confusion on her face grew. “I don’t know, are you?”

A few moments of joint befuddlement followed, until they were interrupted by Milk, who stepped forwards. “Black Tea tends to take things literally. You keep phrasing things as questions, so she’s trying to answer them.”

Lottie blinked, cleared her throat, and tried again.

“…sorry, I wasn’t very clear. It’s nice to meet you.”

Black Tea’s confusion melted back into her serious look. She seemed satisfied with that. “My apologies. I’ve gotten better at catching the intricacies of this language, but I sometimes still fall short. I will continue to improve.”

 “Don’t feel bad, I don’t think anyone can understand things all the time. I know I don’t.” Lottie laughed feebly. “I’m not sure I’ve understood anything fully since I got off the boat…”

It was then that she noticed Black Tea and Milk were both holding boxes.

“Are…you going somewhere? What’s that?”

“These are some of Coffee’s belongings,” Milk answered in her usual bland voice. “We’re moving them out of the master bedroom, so you can move your things in.”

“Moving them out of—?” Suddenly, it clicked why Tiramisu had blocked the door before. Lottie’s stomach twisted. “Wait, you mean that’s _his_ room?”

“It was. Now it’s yours.” Milk lifted the box in her hands a little, as if presenting evidence. “He doesn’t have that many belongings. Tiramisu and Chocolate will be finished cleaning it soon.”

Lottie flinched, rubbing her arm. She really didn’t like the idea of forcing someone out of their room. No wonder Coffee didn’t seem happy about her arrival. “But where is Coffee going to go?”

 “We are putting his things in Chocolate’s room for the time being,” Black Tea said. “I doubt he’ll remain there, however.”

“As do I,” Milk agreed. “Coffee enjoys having a place he can go to be alone, and Chocolate’s antics get on his nerves.”

“He might prefer the basement,” said Black Tea, unloading the box into another room and doing the same with Milk’s, before shutting the door.

Lottie dropped her face into her hands with a groan. “No, no, no one’s living in the basement. Coffee isn’t going to live in the basement.”

She was not going to start her new life by keeping a man in her basement. Especially not a handsome one, because wouldn’t _that_ raise some questions.

Lottie leaned against the wall with a sigh. “If anyone’s going to live in a basement, it’s probably going to be me.”

Black Tea looked almost disturbed at the idea. “No. It’s only right for the Master Attendant to have the best room. Anything else in unacceptable.”

The reaction surprised Lottie. “But…”

 “You’re human. Food Souls exist to serve humans,” Black Tea said, her tone unnervingly matter-of-fact. “There were empty rooms in this place, so it was natural for us to fill them. But Food Souls don’t require rooms of their own, or rooms at all. It isn’t typical for us to be given our own spaces.”

“It…isn’t?” Lottie asked slowly, “But then where do you normally stay?”

“Wherever there is adequate room.” Milk seemed to hesitate before continuing. “It is common for Master Attendants to place their Food Souls in the refrigerator when not in use.”

Lottie could feel herself blanche. “…you’re…you’re joking, right?”

“She isn’t,” Black Tea said, “A cold environment is the fastest way for a Food Soul to heal and reenergize.”

“Not all Food Souls enjoy it.”

Lottie startled, turning to see that Coffee had appeared at the top of the stairs. He smiled a smile at her that made her feel every bit as cold as a fridge would. “Something to bear in mind.”

“But it _is_ the fastest way,” Olivia piped in, climbing up the stairs behind him. The smile she sent Lottie was much warmer than Coffee’s. “Sorry to interrupt. We were worried.”

Somehow, Lottie doubted that Coffee had been worried, but it sounded friendlier saying ‘we’ instead of ‘I’, and she could appreciate that.

“So,” Olivia said, looking between them all, “You all introduced yourselves, good. Now let’s go get your contract signed, Lottie, and we’ll finish the technicalities…”

“First,” Coffee interrupted, “I believe you should go over just what the contract entails with her. Surely a member of the Chef’s Guild wouldn’t want a new member to enter into such an agreement _uninformed_?”

Lottie swore she saw Olivia’s eye twitch. “Coffee, we’ve been over this,” she said, in a peculiar sort of tone that sounded like a snake that was trying to sing.

 “Oh, have we?” He asked, sounding all the world like he was unperturbed, though that mirthless smile on his face said otherwise, “It must have slipped my mind. Why don’t you refresh it?”

“If you need refreshing, maybe we should go put you in the fridge.”

The comment seemed to break Coffee’s smile. Lottie wasn’t sure the heated scowl was an improvement. “May I remind you that this is _my_ coffee shop, and the Chef’s Guild—”

“May I remind YOU that it is NOT your coffee shop,” Olivia interrupted loudly, “It belongs to the Chef’s Guild under my management, and do you remember why? Because Food Souls can’t legally own property, and they can’t legally run a business, and they can’t legally run around doing whatever the hell they like _now can they, Coffee?!”_

The next few moments were spent in a tense silence no one was willing to break. Tiramisu had apparently heard the shouting, because she came out from the bedroom, her face reflecting a deep unhappiness. “Please, let’s end this dispute…fighting won’t help…”

“You shouldn’t be surprised, no?”

A head had popped out of the room Tiramisu had been in. It belonged to a handsome man with dark skin, darker hair, and enchanting blue eyes.  When the rest of him appeared, Lottie saw he was wearing a _very_ low-cut shirt and what appeared to be a gold-brown cape. “Whenever you leave them alone, they get along as well as water on a grease fire.”

“Chocolate. You aren’t helping,” said Milk.

“Was I supposed to be?” He asked with a charming grin. “Come on, you can’t blame me for enjoying the show, can you? It isn’t every day we get to see Coffee losing his temper.”

“That’s not true. We frequently see him lose his temper with you,” Black Tea said.

Chocolate chuckled, putting a hand on his chest. “Ah, you are unfortunately correct. But it’s nice to enjoy it from the other side…”

Tiramisu stepped between Coffee and Olivia, putting a hand on Olivia’s face. “Try to be more delicate.”

“I’ve tried explaining it to him,” Olivia growled, throwing a look at him, before throwing a much more apologetic look at Tiramisu. “You’ve tried explaining it to him. It’s not that he doesn’t understand, it’s that he’s too stubborn to accept it. This is _happening_ , whether he likes it or not.”

Olivia clapped a hand onto Lottie’s shoulder. “You’re going to have a new Master Attendant, and you need to accept that already, because we don’t have—”

“HOLD ON.”

The exclamation seemed to surprise everyone. All heads turned towards Lottie, and it took her an embarrassing second to realize she was the one who’d made the announcement. She ducked out from under Olivia’s hand, turning around to face everyone as she took a step back.

“I mean this in the most polite way, but…seriously, this is not what I’m looking for. It’s pretty obvious they don’t want me here, and you keep saying they need me but I don’t see that at all. All I see is me kicking someone out of their room and stealing their job. I mean…”

Lottie gestured wildly towards the stairs with a hand.

“If I wanted to work with people who don’t like or respect me, I would have just stayed in Porthaven!”

They were still staring at her. She felt her face heat up, embarrassment quickly overwhelming her exasperation. She inched back another step, feeling around behind her for her trunk. “Well, uh, t-thank you for the opportunity, sorry it didn’t work out, and uh…best of luck with whatever it is you’re…”

Chocolate suddenly cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, my dear, but it looks as though we have the Guard approaching our door downstairs.”

Olivia froze. “Ah, shit.”

Judging by the looks on everyone else, the sentiment was felt by all.

Swearing more colorfully under her breath, Olivia pulled the book out from her pack, shoving it into Lottie’s hands. She took Tiramisu’s hand, squeezing it. “You need to walk her through how to sign it. I’ll buy you time and see if I can turn them away.”

Olivia pointed at the other Food Souls. “You! Convince her to stay!”

Her eyes flickered over to Black Tea as she jabbed her finger towards Coffee.

“If things fall through…they’ll probably be coming for him first. If you hear a fight, you know what to do.”

Black Tea nodded grimly.

With that, Olivia hurried down the stairs, taking them two at a time. There was a sharp pounding beneath their feet not long after.

“Uh, what’s going on now?” Lottie asked, feeling once again lost but now quite afraid. “Why is the _Guard_ here?”

Tiramisu looked incredibly distressed, wringing her staff in her hands. “This kingdom…it’s outlawing uncontracted Food Souls. To exist as one is a crime. If…if my Master Attendant can’t get them to leave, they’re going to imprison the others.”

It felt as though all her blood had been replaced with ice water. “They’ll _what_? Just…just because they don’t have a Master Attendant?”

“Yes,” Tiramisu said softly.

“I-I don’t understand…how can they imprison someone for just existing?”

Milk’s voice was as quiet as Tiramisu’s. It wasn’t as impassive as before. “They do not see us as people yet. We’ve failed…”

Coffee took off his glasses. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. “No, Milk. You did everything right. This failure is mine. I miscalculated.”

“Stop trying to shoulder it yourself,” Milk reprimanded, placing a hand on his arm. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to.”

“He’s dead.” Coffee lifted a hand to his eyes. “He died unable to see his dream come to fruition, and now…”

“Come on now, that’s no way to talk,” Chocolate said, venturing closer. “Stop talking as if all hope is lost. We haven’t been clapped in irons yet. Even if they do come after us, we’ve fought off worse before, haven’t we? Black Tea, tell them.”

Black Tea’s gaze was locked on the ground. One of her hands was clutching the handle of a gun too tightly. “Not again,” she murmured, lost in thoughts, “Please, not again…”

Chocolate winced. He glanced back to Tiramisu in a silent plea. “Things can’t be that bad, can they?”

Tiramisu looked for all the world like she wanted to reassure him, but couldn’t find the words. Instead, she focused back on Lottie. Lottie found her hand taken, wrapped anxiously in between Tiramisu’s own.

“The others won’t ask you to do this…I-I don’t want to ask either, but I must. You’re the best chance they have right now. I love them, all of them. They’re precious to me.”

“I-I don’t…” Lottie stammered, her eyes darting between all of them. She felt awful. Of course she felt awful. No one deserved to be rounded up and dumped into prison for what they were. Seeing the growing apprehension in the group made Lottie’s heart break. She wanted to help, but…

Tiramisu’s eyes filled with tears. She squeezed her hand tighter.

“Please.”

It occurred to Lottie then that she had a definitive choice to make, and there’d be no going back from either one. She just had to decide which decision she couldn’t bear to make. Tender hearted as she was, it soon became clear.

Even if she _was_ being exploited, it would still be helping someone.

Lottie squeezed Tiramisu’s hand back, then pulled it away to yank open the contract. “Okay, how do you work this thing? How do I sign?”

Tiramisu’s smile could have lit up the sky all on its own. She flipped through the pages, allowing Lottie to briefly glimpse the faces and names of the others between the pages, looking like mounted cards.

They came to a page with a large blank space. Tiramisu placed Lottie’s hand against it.

“Say ‘I accept this contract and all involved in it’.”

Lottie looked down at her hand, her brow furrowing. “I accept this contract and all involved in it.”

For a second, it didn’t seem to do anything. Then, abruptly, light began to glow under Lottie’s hand. The glow spread over her entire hand, racing up her arm and into her body like a static shock before vanishing. The glow on the page rippled out over the book, a swirl of magic appearing above the pages and runes floating up out of it, vanishing into the air.

Lottie reached out to catch the contract, closing it, half-afraid the magic would fly out and would render the whole thing useless. She glanced at everyone else.

Apparently, everyone but her had been holding their breath, because they all seemed to let it out at the same time. Lottie noticed that while there was a sense of relief among the group, there seemed an equal amount of internal conflict.

But she didn’t have time to dwell on that.

Lottie tucked the completed contract under her arm and rushed down the stairs to find Olivia already engaged in a heated argument with a man in a guard uniform, as his fellows stood uneasily behind him.

“—Madam, as I have already told you, we are from the Royal Guard, and we are working in combination with your Guild. We were tipped off to this location as hosting uncontracted Food Souls, and unless you can offer a contract for them, we _must_ search the premises…!”

“Oh yeah? By whose orders?” Olivia asked, her arms crossed, looking somehow more calm than when she’d been arguing with Coffee.

“By order of his Majesty, the King!”

“Whose king?”

“ _Our_ king! King of the kingdom of Gloriville!”

“Well, I didn’t vote for him.”

The man was going steadily red in the face, and Lottie had a feeling the nonsensical conversation had been going on for quite some time. She cleared her throat.

“Um, excuse me?”

Both Olivia and the guard looked over. Lottie offered what she really hoped was a convincing smile, waving the completed contract over her head.

“Hi, they’re mine.”


	5. In Which Lottie Regrets Not Reading the Fine Print

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Chef' has a very different job description in Gloriville.

The guard blinked at her as if she’d suddenly grown another head. “… _you’re_ the Master Attendant?”

Lottie didn’t care for that tone at all, but she was a little too anxious to call him out on it. She stepped forwards and opened the contract, holding it up maybe a little closer than necessary.

He didn’t seem at all startled by the swirling magic of the book. Clearly, he was used to seeing such things. He looked it over carefully, and Lottie flipped the pages for him to see all of the Food Souls’ contracts.

“Four Food Souls,” one of the other guard said, “All matching the descriptions we got. Looks like everything is accounted for.”

“Yes, that’s what I was saying,” Olivia said, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. “Clearly we’re dealing with someone with a chip on their shoulder. Maybe it’s another chef who can’t handle some friendly competition. Whatever the case, there’s been someone going around spreading rumors about this little café, and frankly, I don’t appreciate it. They’re making trouble for my newest recruit.”

The main guard, who she’d been talking to before, looked rather embarrassed about the whole situation, and nodded. “Yes, well…I suppose everything is in order…”

“That’s right,” Olivia rested a hand on her hip. “Just who sent you out on this wild goose chase, anyway?”

The guard stiffened, standing more at attention. “Ma’am, you know many of our tips are anonymous. We must preserve that confidentiality, or the citizens will lose trust.”

“Oh yes, uh huh, of course,” Olivia sighed, waving a hand vaguely in the air, “It would be a shame if people couldn’t waste your time _and_ mine. Since you’ve introduced this system, just how many complaints have you gotten that were false?”

Lottie noticed that the guard in front reddened as the two behind him looked at one another. Apparently, quite a few.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss it!” The first guard snapped, “But I’ll have you know we’ve caught many dangerous Food Souls! _Many!”_ With that, he steered himself around and marched a little too quickly towards the door. One of his comrades followed him. The other offered them a sheepish smile and a little bow, before quickly chasing after.

Once they left, Olivia crossed the door in two strides, locked it, and drew the curtains of the windows in several successive swipes. Then she spun around. The grin on her face was what Lottie imagined a fox would have, if it was named heir to a chicken coop.

“You did it! You actually pulled it off! I was starting to have my doubts there…”

Lottie stared at her in surprise. “Huh? Pulled it off?”

“Of course! I mean, I thought you might be able to sign, but with a contract like this one, and with four Food Souls you hadn’t even summoned? It was a perfect storm for the contract to turn you down…”

As she stared at Olivia, Lottie swore she could feel the cogs in her mind grind to a halt, before picking up speed.

“Wait a minute…you mean what Coffee said before was right? The contract could have refused me _signing it_?”

 “Yes,” said Black Tea. She’d come down the stairs sometime after the guards had left, frowning. She’d at least lost the haunted look in her eyes. “Not everyone can be a Master Attendant. If you didn’t have the ability, the magic in the contract would have rejected you. It could have deemed you a threat and reacted accordingly.”

“How do you mean?” Lottie asked, realizing a moment later she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

 “It would have shocked you unconscious,” Milk said as she walked down the stairs, her face as blank as usual.

Lottie slowly turned towards Olivia.

“ _Might_ have,” Olivia corrected quickly, “Might. And just a little.”

Lottie was about to tell her just how much she _didn’t_ appreciate that information being left out, but Olivia spoke quicker, patting her shoulder with a smile.

“But it didn’t happen, so it doesn’t matter! What does matter is making sure all the paperwork is filed so we can avoid any other fiascos like this. Besides, now that you’re an official member of the Chef’s Guild, I need to pick you up some materials to get you started. Your Food Souls have lived in Midgar – that’s the city we’re in right now, but you knew _that_ at least, right?  -- for a while now, so they know where everything is. Make sure you take at least one with you when you go out, alright? Black Tea is a good choice, or Chocolate. Make sure Coffee stays at the café and out of trouble.”

Lottie was quickly finding it was hard to stay angry at Olivia when she couldn’t keep up with the information being dumped on her. Maybe that was Olivia’s plan all along.

Especially seeing as she was packing up and heading out the door, pulling Tiramisu along with her.

“Why do I have to -- _what_ trouble?” Lottie called out, feeling increasingly flustered.

Tiramisu looked over her shoulder, offering an apologetic smile. “Please take care of everyone. We’ll see you tomorrow, Attendant Lottie.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow!” Olivia called, sounding much more cheerful than she had any right to be, “Remember to keep your contract with you! Don’t wander outside the city limits and you’ll probably be fine!”

“H-Hey, wait a minute--!”

Lottie’s squeal fell on selective ears, it seemed, because the bell on the door rang as it quickly shut behind them. She gazed out the door blankly for a few second before turning around.

Four pairs of eyes were watching her. She blinked at them just as blankly. The next minute or so was spent in awkward silence, staring at one another, no one quite sure of how things should proceed from there.

Unable to bear the uncomfortable silence any longer, Lottie spoke up. “Uh…well that was…something. Er. You know, I-I don’t think we had the best first impressions, so maybe let’s start over.”

She shuffled a few steps closer, summoning a smile she hoped was one-eighth as charming as Tiramisu’s.

“Hi. I’m Lottie Lamar. I just arrived here from Porthaven, down the coast. I’m not very familiar with Midgar, or even the kingdom of Gloriville just yet, but I came here ready to learn.”

That sounded like she was applying to a job. Was that the best she could do? These were her new partners, her new responsibilities. She had to do better than that!

Lottie cleared her throat, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks, and tried again.

“Anyway, I’ve been in the restaurant business all my life, and I’ve worked as a pastry chef for years. Since it looks like we’re going to be working together from now on, I hope we can get along well.”

More silence.

Goody. What a great way to start off.

Lottie was actually grateful when Coffee spoke up, though his pointed question made her quickly change her mind. “What are your intentions?”

“My…intentions?” she echoed, wracking her brain to figure out what he meant, “Oh, you mean, for this place? Well, I…I came here wanting to open up my own restaurant, but honestly I feel a little awkward since I sort of just took over someone else’s shop…”

One that had only closed a few hours before, and sounded like it had only done so through legal technicality.

Lottie looked at Coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking…why would a Food Soul want to run a café, anyway?”

Coffee’s expression was very hard to read, as was his evasive tone. “Why do humans want to run cafes?”

“Uh…” Lottie thought about that, before slowly, sheepishly replying, “…a sense of accomplishment, I guess? Prestige? The satisfaction of a job well done?”

“Money,” said Coffee.

“Oh.”

“That isn’t his _only_ reason, though.” It was Milk that had spoken that time, and Lottie saw Coffee frown disapprovingly at her. Milk didn’t seem to care, turning her attention on Lottie. “When we were first summoned to this world, the humans saw coffee as evil. They called it the Devil’s drink. Our original Master Attendant worked hard to get them to accept and appreciate coffee.”

That was a lot more serious than Lottie had expected. Suddenly, some of what they’d said before in the hallway made more sense. “The beverage, or the person?”

“Both,” said Black Tea. “Food Souls are the personified spirits of a recipe made by humans. A Food Soul representing something humans like is more appreciated than something that is considered repelling or evil.”

“…wow. I…didn’t really think about that before.” Lottie glanced back at Coffee, troubled by the news. “So that’s why you named the shop the way you did? Devil’s Coffee Shop?”

Coffee merely smiled. It was one of those smiles that didn’t look like they held anything pleasant. “A reminder. It’s good to remember your origins, don’t you agree?”

Lottie didn’t think that anything good could come from remembering people used to hate you, but then again, Lottie was quickly finding she wasn’t Coffee. He operated on a whole different set of rules. She ran a hand through her hair, sighing.

“Knowing that, I can’t really rename or change the shop too much. It sounds like you’ve been running it for a long time…”

How could she, in good conscience, take over his shop, kick him out of his room, and then carelessly destroy everything they’d worked for? Lottie couldn’t. There was no way.

“How about a compromise? We can keep focusing on coffee, but maybe we can introduce dishes that pair well with it. Most coffee shops nowadays sell pastries and food, too, not just drinks.”

The Food Souls just looked at her. Lottie glanced between them, before raising her hands defensively. “I-I do remember you said you didn’t know how to cook, but that’s alright! If you guys can run the front, I can take care of making the food in the back for now. Then I can teach you guys to help out with prep and stuff.”

Coffee crossed his arms. “I doubt you’ll have enough time to do so, Master Attendant. We’ll soon be busy with Chef’s Guild affairs.”

“How do you mean?” Lottie asked in confusion. “I mean, they’ll want me to focus on the café, won’t they?”

The question seemed to frustrate him more than she would have ever expected. Coffee’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. When he opened his mouth, Lottie braced herself to be yelled at.

What she didn’t expect, though, was for Chocolate to sweep in, stepping between them and effectively blocking him from view. He smiled warmly, though with the air of someone about to give bad news.

“Ah, well, they will want you to focus on the café, yes, but they’ll also be relying on you quite a bit. The citizens depend on Master Attendants in the Chef’s Guild to take on missions, and to hunt down Fallen Angels.”

It was a good thing Lottie wasn’t holding anything, because if she had been, it would have crashed to the ground. Luckily, the only thing that hit the floor was her jaw.

No way. She couldn’t have heard that right. They had _chefs_ hunt down _monsters?_

“I-I…I’m sorry, could you repeat that please?”

Black Tea took the request very seriously, and repeated it with emphasis, in case she was having trouble hearing. “The **citizens** rely on **Master Attendants** in the **Chef’s Guild** to take on **missions** and to hunt down **Fallen Angels**.”

Chocolate looked pained, though he kept his smile in place. “…yes thank you, Black Tea.”

Lottie was left standing there, dumbstruck. Slowly, her mind began to sweep up all the pieces, trying to fit them together like a sadistic jigsaw puzzle. Olivia’s need for more recruits to the Chef’s Guild, her talk of gaining power and getting stronger, mentioning Fallen Angels cutting off supply lines…

Food Souls hunted Fallen Angels. Master Attendants owned Food Souls. Master Attendants were magical monster hunters.

She’d just taken a job as a magical monster hunter.

“…I’m _definitely_ being exploited.”

The Food Souls were staring at her much the way her family had stared at their fuming father whenever he’d gotten an order sent back. She could recognize well enough the trepidation on their faces.

She was the one in charge now. She was being exploited, unquestionably, but she was still in charge. She had to try and keep her composure. She couldn’t explode. She couldn’t have an anxious meltdown with everyone watching.

So Lottie closed her eyes and took a very deep breath. Then she buried her hands into her hair.

“Okay. Okay. Okay.”

She began to pace. Her hands slid down to cover her face, muffling her voice as she kept babbling. “Okay, okay, okay, okay… _mhmm_ …alright…okay…yep, yep…”

It was only once she’d paced the length of the café twice, affirmations tumbling ceaselessly from her lips, that Lottie stopped, dragging her fingers back through her hair as she took another deep breath.

“…so YEAH,” she finally squeaked, “I probably _won’t_ have time to teach you to cook. I’ll take care of the cooking, when I’m…haha…when I’m not…fighting. Horrible. Monsters. Apparently.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. The owner of the hand turned out to be Black Tea, looking at her worriedly.

“If you’re feeling unsure of your combat skill, I can assist in your training, Master. How are you with guns?”

That just made Lottie massage her temples. “…oh God…”

Out of the corner of her eyes, Lottie saw Milk shaking her head slowly and meaningfully, trying to convey a message. “Black Tea.”

Black Tea’s brow furrowed in confusion. Slowly, she offered, “…we can…start tonight?”

Milk sighed deeply.

Coffee remained silent, his arms crossed, deeply engrossed in contemplation – which, judging by the dark look in his eyes, might have involved murder.

Chocolate, however, seemed to be able to read things better than Black Tea, and stepped in, gently easing her out of Black Tea’s confused grip.

“There seems to be a lot for us to talk about, but first, we should get you settled in, Master. Let’s get your things put away, and you can take a long, hot bath. Afterwards, I can take you out and show you all the best parts of the town.”

He flashed a charming smile, raising the back of her hand to his lips. “How about it, my dear? We have all night. How would you like to spend it~?”

Lottie was not used to having impossibly handsome men flirt with her. She wasn’t used to anyone kissing her hand. At almost any other moment in her life, she’d have probably melted.

But not that moment.

“Sleeping,” said Lottie.

Chocolate blinked at her. Lottie could practically feel the dark circles growing beneath her eyes. Hollowly, she added, “I’m _really_ tired.”

“Oh. Oh, right, of course,” Chocolate said, quickly letting go of her hand, looking a bit flustered. “I’m sorry, I only thought…ah, it doesn’t matter.”

Milk breezed past her, and abruptly, Lottie found herself being led up the stairs. Up they went, with the others following behind them, all the way to the master bedroom. She opened the door.

Inside was a sizeable bedroom with large windows, hung with golden-brown curtains. A built-in closet took up half a wall. Just from opening the door, Lottie could smell the lingering aroma of coffee beans.

Her trunk had been carried across the wooden floor and placed by the closet.

The rest of the room was…bare.

Lottie just stared into the empty, unfurnished room for the better part of a minute. In fact, she kept on staring until Chocolate, sounding baffled, asked, “Uh…where’s the bed?”

“I moved it,” said Milk, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s in your room now.”

“What? _Why?”_

Milk’s tone was emotionless. “Tiramisu said to move all of Coffee’s possessions into your room for the time being. The bed is Coffee’s. So I moved it.”

“Then…where is the Master Attendant going to sleep?” Black Tea asked.

“In her bed.”

“Milk,” Chocolate said miserably, “She…she wouldn’t have brought a bed with her. She didn’t even know she was moving in until _we_ did.”

It took a second for realization to bloom across Milk’s white eyes. It was followed by a very quiet ‘oh’.

Coffee sighed in exasperation behind her, and was staring to say something to Milk and Chocolate, but Lottie wasn’t paying attention anymore. She slunk heavily into the room, closing all the curtains.

Then, she laid down face-first on the floor.

The voices at the doorway went silent. After a moment, she heard someone speak up. It sounded like Chocolate.

“Uh…Master Attendant…?”

Lottie’s voice was muffled by the wood. She didn’t bother turning over. “You know what? This is fine. I’m just going to sleep right here.”

Coffee sounded the most confounded she’d ever heard him. “You’re…you’re going to sleep…on the floor.”

“Mhmm.” Lottie only gave him a vague little wave of her hand. She was too tired to do anything else. She was too tired to think or decide on anything. All she wanted to do was sleep. “G’night.”

The floor was the perfect place for a doormat.


End file.
